Hello people. Put the torches and forks away. I'm back. I'm late but back.
Needed to sort a few things...but yeah.
I promised I wouldn't abandon this story, didn't I?
This is a rather short chapter, but I needed to put something out here to get myself moving. But anyways, do leave a lovely review.
On another note, does anyone know why the hell Harry Potter Fanfic Archive isn't working?
Harry thought the arena was more crowded than before. The stands were filled to bursting capacity- students, civilians, important ministry officials- Harry thought he even spotted one or two famous Quidditch players. Beside him stood Fleur, who'd congratulated him on his second position, and apologised for attacking him. Harry waved off her apologies, and told her with a broad smile that she had nothing to apologise for.
At first, Fleur seemed quite surprised by Harry's maturity, then she took it in stride with a smile and a hug.
"Should I fear fire, brimstone and lightning for the next week, or am I forgiven for my insolence in the arena?"
Harry turned. Anaiah Malfoy stood six feet away, a small smile on her lips, and a silent apology on her beautiful face. For a moment Harry glared at her, and her brow receded upwards into a frown; then Harry's face broke into a smile. "You better watch yourself Malfoy," Harry began with a laugh, "I'm going to set any and all French champions on fire." Anaiah looked at him for a moment with uncertainty on her face, before she realized he was joking and broke into laughter.
Harry thought there was a levity in her laughter he hadn't felt before, and he realized it was because her mother was safe. She greeted him with a hug and a kiss on each cheek, which prompted him into blushing. She gave him a teasing smile before leaning forward to whisper a 'Thank you' in his left ear. She turned to stand beside him, their shoulders brushing as they talked.
The next champion to join them was Krum, who grunted in response to Fleur and Anaiah's polite greeting, and chose to ignore Harry completely. It all changed when Cedric walked up to them. He sported a few bandages around his arms, which smelled strongly of burn healing salves. He gave terse smiles to the female champions, and then his eyes fell on Harry. They stared at each other for a few long moments, and Fleur and Anaiah watched the two of them as Harry's emerald eyes turned ice cold.
The cool tension in the champions' pedestal was broken by the loud, slightly scratchy voice of Ludo Bagman as it tore across the arena. Harry slid his icy gaze off of Cedric, and onto the Judges. He barely heard Ludo announce that the task was worth thirty points.
"And so another task comes to an end. Our champions, though battered and bruised, have surfaced once more, some victorious, and some…not so much." Here the wizard gave a short chuckle that resounded in the noisy arena. "What I find interesting, and I'm sure so do most of our audience, is the not-so-subtle hostility some of our champions had towards one another…though I believe it is not in my place to comment." Harry heard a rumble of laughter pass through the crowd. "But! Now, onto the scores. As made clear earlier, this bonus task held points only for the first three champions, and so it is with great pleasure, the Judges announce thirty points to Miss Anaiah Malfoy- the clear winner of this task. Twenty go to Mr Harry Potter, and ten points to Miss Fleur Delacour."
The crowd applauded, and Harry sighed.
Butterflies in the stomach felt like an understatement to Harry. Tom Riddle knew nothing about how to dance, another reason why Harry hated him. McGonagall's course, Harry realised as he paced at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for Hermione to show up, was far less educative on the techniques of dancing as Harry would have liked it to be. He had wanted more than the basics, but it couldn't be helped.
Cedric and Cho had already arrived, and the latter kept on throwing Harry dark looks. Harry shrugged it off. Your boyfriend should have known better. Victor Krum was taking a Beauxbatons witch to the ball, and both of them were ignoring him steadfastly. Finnick Wurdy had a Slytherin standing beside him, and Harry recognized the female as Tracey Davis. Huh! Didn't see that one coming.
Anaiah was, Harry found, going to the Ball with a seventh year Gryffindor and Fleur with a Ravenclaw known as Roger Davies. Both the witches were a vision of unparalleled beauty- Fleur in her dark green dress and Anaiah in her Silver affair, though Fleur was in a league of her own. She looked like something out of a fairy-tale- unbelievable and surreal. They smiled at him, and Harry stood with them for a few minutes, chatting amicably. He wondered how much longer Hermione was going to take…the Ball was about to begin in a few minutes.
Barely had the thought passed his mind, when Anaiah whistled to him, her eye jumping from him to somewhere behind him, a slightly lecherous grin on her face. Harry turned around uncertainly, and felt the moment rob him of breath and speech. Hermione was descending the steps, clad in a golden shoulder-less dress that was wrapped around her tightly enough to let Harry appreciate his girlfriend's curves. Below her waist, the dress loosened to flow around her knees in a slightly frock like manner, where it ended. The shimmery dress, Harry realized as Hermione came closer, had thin golden chains wrapped all around. A simple star pendant of the same colour, a golden bracelet, and plain galleon sized golden earrings comprised of her jewellery. Her hair was done up in an intricate bun, a few curls let loose to frame her face- which was touched up with a hint of make-up.
Standing in the entrance hall, amongst the other champions, a prim Professor McGonagall, and a paltry other students, Harry felt it all dissolve, blow away. In the disturbed silence of the hall, he could hear music flow in like a gentle breeze, and though he knew it was all in his head, he couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face. He watched her return his smile, there was a whooping sensation in his stomach, and she was in front of him, playing with her fingers nervously. She looked at him from underneath her lashes, a coy smile playing on her face. "Well?"
Harry didn't know what to say- didn't have any words to say. He could have spent the evening like that, but he knew he had to say something. "You look…stunning." He managed.
She just smiled at him. "Is that for me?" she asked, pointing to the carnation clutched in his left hand.
"Huh..wha-? Oh, yes. Yes, here…" He cursed himself mentally for stammering like a fool. He held out the white flower for her, and as she was about to take the white flower from his hands, he was struck with a flash of inspiration, and pulling out his wand instantly, Harry cast a quick coloration charm on the flower, turning its leaves to the same golden shades that adorned the girl in front of him. Hermione blushed in response, and then noticed Harry's attire.
Harry's muggle attire.
"Harry! What are you wearing? The ball requires you to wear dress robes, not a…not a tuxedo!" Her eyes were wide, and Harry knew she was about to launch herself onto a lecture about him being irresponsible. He cut her off before she could begin.
"Oh I know." He paused, letting a roguish smile spread across his lips, "I think this looks better. Don't you?"
Hermione looked appalled at his blatant disregard of rules. Harry found himself only amused. He knew he wasn't in any trouble- he'd already had had this conversation with McGonagall mere moments ago. "Hermione, you don't need to be so worried. Besides, it's time the Wizarding world saw where I stand on matters of Pure-blood supremacy. I'm a muggle-born supporter through and through Miss Granger." He finished, waggling his eyebrows pointedly at her.
She let loose an "Oh!" at that. Harry waited for the smile he knew would come. Instead, he found his lips captured in a very-not-so-polite kiss, in the middle of the Entrance Hall. Again.
And naturally, he heard the same cough. Again.
"What is it with the Entrance Hall and the two of you? I swear to Merlin Mr Potter, if I catch the two of you behaving like this in the middle of the Entrance Hall one more time, it's going to be detentions with Filch for the rest of the month."
Harry turned around with an unashamed smile on his face. McGonagall looked mildly irritated, but Harry didn't care. This evening was supposed to be fun. That was exactly how he was going to keep it.
Dinner was a grand affair. The Great Hall was decked with Christmas decorations, and Harry felt Dumbledore might have gone a bit overboard with the absolutely huge Christmas trees that stood in each corner of the hall. Little ice unicorns raced through the air from one tree to another, chased by ice dragons, which in turn were chased by an army of tiny knights made of ice. Two pairs of Christmas bells whizzed through the air, ringing at random spots and intervals. And to top it all, a lion, a serpent, a badger and a raven, all made of fire, danced and pirouetted near the ceiling of the great hall.
Large and small round tables dotted the Hall, with comfortable cushioned seats surrounding them, and coloured candles, each flaunting its own brand of coloured flame, hovered over them.
Harry was amazed. Dumbledore might have gone overboard, but from the amazed looks on the faces of every student inside the Great Hall, Harry knew it was worth it. Food consisted of a dozen and a half dishes he had never heard of. And the rest he had never tasted. Harry heard from a passing ghost that the food on the champions' table consisted of a collection of twelve cultures and cuisines.
And so it was, Harry went through dinner, slightly dazed, but nevertheless attentive to Hermione's consistent rant about the brilliant and showy magic, and her nagging- he would have to teach her how to do that not so easy bit with the fire effigies.
Dessert was...confusing. Despite having a preference to Treacle tart, Harry didn't know what to try. In the end, he settled for what he thought was a ball of chocolate filled with liquid chocolate and custard, dipped in a creamy sweet substance whose name Hermione rattled away in French- the only part of which Harry remembered was 'sauce'.
Before long, the plates cleared away, magically disappearing into the tables, and Dumbledore stood up, passing a warm smile Harry's way, before announcing that the time for the champions to open the ball had come.
They opened the dance to whispers, stares, camera flashes and loud applause. Harry barely noticed it all. His entire focus was on Hermione, and the way her body danced so temptingly close to his own. A slow track played in the background and they swayed to it mindlessly. When Harry managed to tear his eyes away from Hermione, he saw the others. Fleur already looked fed up with her choice of partner. Anaiah, at least, appeared satisfied. The two witches were dancing so gracefully, it put every movement inside the Great Hall to shame.
Cedric and Cho were moving a tad slowly and Harry suspected Cedric still had a few injuries on him to be able to dance properly.
Harry found it amusing that Ron had attended the Ball stag. Whether it was out of necessity, or style, Harry didn't know, but when the two wizards' eyes met, Ron's turned away instantly.
They talked slowly as they moved around the dance floor, and each time Hermione whispered something in his ear, he inhaled her perfume- she smelled of roses and wine. His heart skipped a beat every time it happened. He suspected Hermione was aware of exactly how much she affected him, and her gentle brushes were neither as innocent, nor as accidental as Harry had earlier thought. Regardless, every time her body brushed against his, Harry had a fierce desire to make it stay that way.
By the time the fourth song had ended, Harry had fallen into a pattern of dance moves. His mind had become a blur of dance, Hermione, not-stepping-on-toes, and Hermione. All of it was a blessing, he supposed- the peace in the moment, the girl in his arms and the butterflies in his stomach. All of it was a charm- his jacket, her dress and the music.
All of it was magic- simple, true and palpable. To him it was unreal, like something stolen out of someone else's life, or a moment glanced at through a fleeting window of time that wasn't there to stay. It felt like a wild dream- just being there with Hermione, in her pretty golden dress, the way the light hit her face as he twirled her around, and the way rogue strands of her hair fell across her face. There was nothing to worry about- the world had melted- Lord Voldemort had melted away, there wasn't any stupid tournament to scratch his throat, and there wasn't any Dementia.
He looked at her, and for a moment, he looked. She looked like she had on that day, out in the rain, like she hadn't a care in the world, like the only thing that mattered was the boy twirling her around the dance floor- albeit a bit clumsily. Harry liked it.
He was pulled out of his rather interesting thoughts by a tapping on his shoulder. It was Fleur.
"Hermione, would you mind it terribly if I cut in?"
Hermione frowned, as if she did mind terribly, but then covered her displeasure with a smile and stepped backwards, muttering something to Fleur, who laughed in response, and walking away towards the tables, with a backwards glance at Harry, as if to say I'll be waiting.
Harry nodded at her and then turned to face Fleur, gulping nervously as she stepped in close. Dreading the movement more than a basilisk, Harry placed a gentle hand on Fleur's back, and letting his other take her in a light grip, proceeded to swing her around in the beginnings of a rather fast dance.
Initially, Fleur looked a bit troubled, but as the song progressed, she eased into comfort.
"I'm going to assume your original choice of a dance partner wasn't...interested in dancing?" Harry began tentatively. She glared at him.
"Don't even ask. It was a mistake to think I could have enjoyed a normal evening at a dance...like a normal girl. Sometimes my heritage can be a bother." She pursed her lips in displeasure, looking at Harry with a calculating gaze.
After a moment, she asked, "How do you do it? Hmm? Why aren't you affected by the allure?"
"Uh...I...I don't think I know how or why. I've just never felt a compulsion to notice you. You'll probably find the answer in 'the List of reasons why Harry Potter is awesome.'"
Fleur laughed, and Harry realised it was a sound people would die for.
"'The List of reasons why Harry Potter is awesome?' Should I ask of its existence in a world outside said Harry Potter's head?" she asked with a smile.
Harry returned with a hurt look, "Why Miss Delacour! You wound me! Everyone knows the list by heart." They burst into chuckles, and Harry was glad he had managed to edge away from the sensitive topic of Fleur's allure, and when she passed him an appreciative smile, he realized it hadn't passed her notice. They danced the rest of the song away in silence, and once the song ended, Harry led Fleur to the drinks corner where they were joined by Hermione, Susan, a giggling Hannah and a blushing Neville.
"You two look like you've been up to something naughty." Harry commented dryly. Neville yelped, and Hannah went red. Susan, laughter barely suppressed, admonished Harry, "Leave them be Harry! It's taken me long enough as it is to get the two of them together." They all made small talk for the next song, after which Susan demanded a dance and Harry took her up on the offer. They danced to a jazzy number, before Hermione cut in and claimed Harry back as her date.
"I hope you're not getting bored," Harry began worriedly "we can head out if you want."
"Harry, relax. This is good. I'm enjoying myself here...Though I think I wouldn't mind a trip to the lake sometime later." Her smile was infectious, and Harry found himself grinning like an idiot in no time.
The band hit them with a slow song, and Harry realized most of the people left on the dance floor were couples, people romantically involved with each other. Harry looked at Hermione, a bit nervous, but she merely smiled at him. And Harry thought, if she was ready to flaunt him, there was no reason he would shy away from flaunting her.
Tightening his grip on her hand and waist, he pulled her closer, so that they were almost touching, she gasped slightly, but relaxed into his hold. And for the next few minutes, everything in Harry Potter's world was alright. With the girl he was crazy about in his arms, emerald eyes locked with brown, noses touching every now and then, and as an ice unicorn darted around their shoulders, making shrill, barely audible 'neighs', making Hermione laugh, everything in Harry Potter's world was more than alright- it was good.
The lake was cold- and frozen, and Harry stood on the frozen surface of the water, Hermione a few feet behind him on solid ground, cautioning him softly, wrapped in his tuxedo jacket. The moon was a large gibbous, showering them with silvery light, and making the cracks and the bubbles in the ice glitter like a thousand diamonds were trapped in them. The oak tree by the edge of the lake swayed gently in the cold breeze of the December night. Hermione who had outright refused his offer to join him on the thin ice he stood on and had taken refuge underneath the oak tree, shivered in response, her teeth chattering as she shook in the cold.
Hearing the sound and recognizing it for what it was, Harry cast a non-verbal warming charm on her, earning a murmur of gratitude in response. He stood there for a few minutes, staring at the moon, remembering the dance he had shared moments ago with the girl who stood behind him.
Somewhere far, far away, a wolf howled.
A click of golden heels alerted him that she was beside him, and he turned to her with a surprised, steady gaze. "I thought you thought of this as 'too risky and incredibly stupid'?" He said, quoting her from moments ago.
She rolled her eyes at him, a slow smile brushing across her lips. "Oh hush you!" They stood in silence for a few moments.
"If it's safe enough for you, then it's safe enough for me." She leaned into him, and Harry brought a hand up around her shoulders. "But it's not. Safe- I mean. It's not safe. The ice is too thin."
She shrugged at his words, as if it didn't worry her. "They why are you treading on it Harry?"
"Because for sometimes, and for some things, it's...for some moments, glittering shards in an otherwise dull glass tapestry, or bright red roses amongst dead leaves, not being safe is worth the...time spent. And those are the moments, I think, I remember the most, or feel alive in the most." Almost instantly, like clockwork, a muted crunch issued from the ice beneath, as a dull crack appeared from the point where Hermione's left heel dug into the ice.
He turned to look at her, waiting for her to hurry back to safety of the snow draped shore, but she was merely staring at him, as if she'd never seen him before. He shook her shoulder gently, afraid to damage their foothold further. "Hermione? The ice...you might want to step back."
She shook her head slowly, a slow but bright smile on her face. "I find myself least bothered." And with that, she took a step to the side, away from the crack, but also away from the shore.
Harry found himself staring at her with wonder. "You've changed, Hermione Granger."
She snorted lightly. "Huh! You're one to talk."
He joined her in hushed laughter, taking a step towards her, away from the shore.
"And if you fall?" He asked in a whisper, hoping madly that she didn't, and that the ice held.
"Catch me?" She offered hoarsely.
"Always."
Somewhere far, far away, another wolf howled.
"You fought that! With a sword!" She'd spoken after a full minute. And her mouth still hadn't closed. Her grip on his right hand was turning his fingers blue. Harry still thought her reaction had been better than Dumbledore's, who'd stumbled and claimed the nearest wall for support with an exclamation of "Dear Merlin!"
They stood in silence for another couple of minutes, examining the basilisk. Harry realized it was much bigger than he had estimated, it seemed an easy seventy feet in length, and almost as wide as a car. Letting go of Hermione's hand, Harry moved towards the thing, pulling out his wand- just in case...
Its body had thinned certainly, as if it was shrivelling, but apart from that, there didn't seem to be any signs of rotting on the outside. Quite the contrary, its fangs were still wet with venom. He felt Dumbledore join him, Hermione in tow. "Harry, my boy, the next time I treat you like a child- or with any less respect than you deserve, either hit me with the sword of Gryffindor, or just say 'Basilisk'- though I much prefer the latter."
"I will." Harry replied with a small smile on his face as he studied Dumbledore's.
Hermione moved in front of him, taking his hand. "I still can't wrap my head around a thirteen year old Harry Potter against that thing- alone."
"But I wasn't alone. Fawkes was with me, remember? Poor bird got smacked about quite a bit. If Fawkes hadn't blinded the Basilisk-"
"But you ran this thing through with a sword!" Hermione said forcefully, and Harry saw that she was getting worked up. "And got stabbed by its fang in return! Harry, do you know what the odds were?"
Harry gave her a bleak smile. "Slim to none?"
Her nostrils flared. "OH you think this is FUNNY?" And Harry saw trouble coming his way- he saw it coming a mile away. "Hey there's no need to worry about it now. It was more than a year ago! Besides I'm right here- and I'm still in one piece. And then, it wasn't like I'd planned to get rid of the thing by myself! Things just happened- you know how it is- you've been on enough of these...exercises in stupidity with me as it is."
"Indeed Miss Granger," said Dumbledore, coming to Harry's rescue, "I do not find it wise myself to dwell on the past. Though a sterner word goes to you Harry. Caution."
Harry nodded in response to Dumbledore's look, turning back to face the dead King of Serpents. "So, I was thinking, we can still get something out of this...venom, hide...I mean, basilisk hide is resistive to magic, I'll be damned if it isn't of some use."
Dumbledore looked at him steadily. "Harry- this-lying here in front of you, is a quite a fortune, though I doubt you need any of that. I'd suggest keeping the harvest to yourself. Basilisk blood and venom is rather rare, and used in potions and rituals of a rather shady nature...if you follow where I am going with this- it would be unwise to release ingredients from the finest Basilisk specimen the world has ever seen into the market during such times."
Harry nodded at him. They spent a few more minutes discussing the basilisk, before Dumbledore cast an enchantment over the corpse to preserve it, not that the basilisk needed it, and they moved towards the vacant end of the chamber, where Dumbledore drew a dueller's ward. Harry gulped uneasily. Despite Dumbledore's promise of going easy on him, he was of two minds- he was about to duel Dumbledore, and he was about to duel Dumbledore.
He watched Dumbledore's wand movements, knowing the spell Dumbledore was casting, but learning the little modifications Dumbledore had made to the spell, and comparing them to Lord Voldemort's. Sometimes, and mostly recently, he felt he knew too much. If a little knowledge was a dangerous thing, Harry wondered how catastrophic a lot of it could be. As the spell took hold, a circle of dull white light appeared on the ground, fifteen metres in radius. Dumbledore stepped inside it, looking around and firing a stunner to make sure the ward was working, before he nodded to Harry.
Harry gave a nod, pulling his cloak off, and turning around to face Hermione. "Would you mind holding onto this?" He asked softly, hoping he wasn't in trouble with her. She reached for the cloak and gave him an uncertain smile, "All the best Harry."
Dreading the calm look on Dumbledore's face, Harry closed his eyes for a moment to focus himself, going through his own spell inventory, and hoping his wits didn't desert him when he needed them the most.
Stepping into the circle, Harry bowed, as did Dumbledore, before Hermione, standing a few feet away from the circle, shouted "Begin!"
Dumbledore began slowly, and Harry waited for him to strike first. The headmaster's right foot moved in a slow circle, before his back crouched slightly and his right hand, clutching the Elder wand, came up in another circle, and Harry realized this was Dumbledore's own duelling stance. For a second, the old wizard was still, and then- then they were off.
If Harry hadn't seen it for himself, he wouldn't have believed that Dumbledore could move so fast. His wand shot forth a stunner and an Incarcerous and then jumped to the side to begin his next spell- and all Harry managed was a Protego. The stunner was absorbed in the shield, and Harry's cutting spell sliced through the ropes, and by Dumbledore's fifth spell, Harry had picked up speed. He began with a stunner of his own, followed by a Reducto and a summoning spell on Dumbledore's shoes, all of which were nullified before they even made it halfway to Dumbledore.
Something whizzed past his left ear, and Harry realized he'd come very close to being The-boy-who-lasted-five-seconds. And Dumbledore was supposedly going easy on him. He dodged another stunner, and lashed out with his own, which was deflected into the ground and the next one right back at him. He barely managed a shield in time, stumbling backwards as his body adjusted to his abrupt movements.
Dumbledore was a whirlwind of movements, his wand spinning in a specific pattern as he murmured hushed words to his wand. The wand movements were foreign to Harry, though some spells weren't, but that was a moot point- since the speed with which the Headmaster's spells rushed at him was so incredible, Harry had a tough time even counting them.
He found himself being pressed back towards the edge of the dueller's ward, and the moment he stepped outside of it, the duel would be over. And the way the duel had begun, the 'over' part didn't seem too far away. He side stepped another curse- retaliating with a freezing charm, supplanted by a boiling one, before he needed to dodge again. It was a dance of frustration, and all that time, Harry found to his bitter frustration, Dumbledore had that twinkle in his eyes.